


Our Son, Who Art in Heaven

by Rune (VenusOurania)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Episode Fix-It: s15e20 Carry On, Episode Fix-it, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, Fix-It, Gen, Happy Ending, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Jack Kline as God, One Shot, Podfic Welcome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:00:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28132071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VenusOurania/pseuds/Rune
Summary: Sam was dying. Dean had never been good at letting go.
Relationships: Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Jack Kline & Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Jack Kline & Sam Winchester
Kudos: 29





	Our Son, Who Art in Heaven

**Author's Note:**

> Here is another fix it because why the hell not.

This was stupid. 

This was absolutely, completely, ridiculously stupid. It had been a simple, Monster of the Week case. Research, rescue, kill. 

There had been absolutely no step about  _ being killed _ in their itinerary.

He could feel horror creeping through him in a detached sort of way, a numb, yet heavy pit in his stomach. The still warm crimson stain of blood on his hand seemed to mock him.  _ You failed, you failed, you failed _ , it said. 

Sam’s breaths had become laboured, and his grip on Dean’s shoulder tightened. He opened his mouth, presumably to speak, maybe say something stupid like ‘you tried’ or ‘it’s okay’.

Dean couldn’t let him, he couldn’t. If Sam tried to reassure him now, he’d lose his last marbles. The already frayed thread he hung from would snap and he’d fall apart.

“No, no no no,” Dean muttered, grasping both sides of Sam’s face, “It’s going to be okay. We’re gonna find those kids, and we’re gonna get them home. Together. And then we are going home together.”

Sam was shaking his head, eyes watering, and damnit. This was stupid. 

“JACK!” Dean roared, making Sam flinch, and felt guilty instantly. He shouldn't be jolting Sam like that, shouldn’t be aggravating his injury. It must be hurting, terribly. Or had Sam already lost feeling in his limbs?

Dean was intimately familiar with the art of dying.

“D-Dean--” Sam started again, but he cut him off.

“Shh, Sammy. Save your energy. It’s okay.” He looked around frantically, they didn’t have  _ time _ . Sam hadn’t lasted very long the last time he’d been stabbed in the back, but the last time, the knife had been yanked out immediately. “Jack, you have to help Sam!  _ Jack! _ Didn’t you say you were everywhere? Then where the hell are you now?”

A fucking rebar wouldn’t be the end of Sam Winchester. Dean couldn’t let it be. 

“Dean, it’s al-” Sam began. His hands were shaking. 

“Don’t you  _ dare  _ finish that sentence. JACK!” Dean shouted again, making Sam wince. The panic was like a band of icy iron around his chest, tightening with every second and making it hard to breathe. 

After a few seconds, Sam let his head thud back to the pillar behind him, a resigned sigh escaping his quivering lips. 

No, no. No, this wasn’t happening. Just a nightmare cooked up by his traumas, and hell knew how many of those he had. They’d make out of this alive and okay. They’d defeated freakin’ god, what was a little near death experience after that?

He’d moved closer to Sam, his hands now on his shoulders. Sam’s chest rose in worryingly shallow breaths.

Dean didn't know when he’d started crying, but his face was wet, and his voice choked up. “Jack, Jack, please. You have to help Sam. Where are you?” He’d slide to his knees and beg if he could, if he thought it’d make a difference. 

Life had the cruelest sense of humour. As soon as they thought they’d won, it kicked them down, shouting,  _ ‘Haha, think again, losers’ _ . So maybe it wasn’t just Chuck, maybe it’s just the way it was supposed to play out. Maybe they just weren’t meant to be free. 

Dean looked up at Sam, his face pale and breaths coming in short gasps. He could see it, how hard Sam was trying to hold on, just for Dean, and he knew it had to be painful. And then he felt irrevocably guilty for being so selfish, for extending Sam’s suffering.

But he couldn’t bring himself to say goodbye yet. He… he couldn’t. Not after everything. 

He opened his mouth again, to apologise, maybe. Sam definitely deserved an apology. Maybe a hundred. He couldn’t protect him. After everything that had happened, he couldn’t protect him on a simple, regular hunt. Vampires, and rusty rebars. For being selfish, for not being stronger. 

“I’m here.” 

Both Sam and Dean startled, a short cry of pain escaping Sam’s lips as he gave a full body flinch. 

Jack stood there, in the same clothes they’d seen him in the last time. In fact, he didn't look different at all. 

Sam’s wide eyes landed on Jack and he spoke, his voice wobbling in a way that made Dean’s throat tighten, “J-Jack?”

“I’m here, Sam,” Jack repeated, before Sam jerked in his place, knees buckling. Dean barely caught him in time, lowering the large man to the floor slowly when he couldn’t get on his feet after a few seconds. 

Cautiously, Dean put his hands on Sam’s back, where the wound was. His hand came back clean. 

His own knees threatened to buckle in relief. 

Sam’s breaths were still short, but he had lost his ashen pallor. His knees were folded in front of him, and Dean crouched next to him. “Jack.”

Jack lifted his hand, fingers spread wide and a smile lightening up his face, “Hey, Sam. Dean.” He lowered it, his face smoothing out, “I’m sorry it took me so long to get here. I was in heaven and… time moves differently,” a little frown creased his forehead, “Everywhere now.”

“Thank you, Jack,” Dean choked out, still reeling. He’d started seriously considering the idea of losing Sammy; for good this time. All the tension left his body, making him slump, exhaustion weighing on him now that the panic had taken its leave. 

“Jack, you’re--” Sam started, before pausing. He sounded a little stunned, and honestly, Dean couldn’t really blame him. After a moment, he continued, “I’m really glad to see you, Jack.”

Jack gave them a blinding smile, so full of innocence, one could never have assumed he held the power of god in him, “Me too. I’m technically not supposed to do things like this. But… but I love you too much not to. I think I can make exceptions for the people who saved the world.”

“Well, we couldn’t have done it without you,” Dean added gruffly. Jack just smiled back. He looked like he wanted to say something, but then thought better of it. 

“How are you, Jack?” Sam seemed to have gotten his breath back, but didn’t seem in a hurry to get up. Dean distinctly noted the absence of the rebar on the now smooth pillar surface. 

“I’m…” Jack looked down at his hand, before nodding, “I’m good.”

“Then we’re happy for you,” Sam said, before shifting a little gingerly. The wound was probably completely gone, but Dean knew the after effects of magical healing, the phantom non pains. They  _ knew  _ the wound was gone, but at the same time, it’s hard to convince your mind of the same. 

“It feels really good, you know?” Jack continued, “To be finally doing what my mother always believed I would. What Castiel always believed I would. Changing the world, heaven.” 

Even if Dean had wanted to reply, he couldn’t have. Castiel’s death still made his heart ache and eyes sting, a memory too fresh and too close.

“They’d be proud of you,” Sam said firmly.

This time, Jack’s smile showed teeth. “They are.”

Dean froze, his brain short circuiting for the second time that day. Had he--? He was too afraid to get his hopes up, life had a way of smacking them in the face when he did. But one look at Sam’s face confirmed that he’d heard him too. 

“You mean-?”

Jack just shrugged in response, still beaming. 

Sam recovered first, not bothering to ask further questions. Dean’s not sure he could have handled it anyway. “For what it’s worth, Jack,” Sam said, “We’re proud of you too.”

“I know.” He didn’t sound obnoxious as he said it, as one would expect from those words. He said it like it was a truth Jack had accepted and was in harmony with, something he knew in his heart and carried with, always.

It warmed Dean’s own heart, too. Eased some of the guilt about the way he’d treated Jack. 

Sam and Dean watched as Jack disappeared with his signature wave, Dean finally moving to help his brother stand.

Maybe life wasn’t  _ completely  _ against them, after all. 

**Author's Note:**

> So I know this fic is very similar to my other fix it fic [What We Deserve](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28026774) but what about it, huh? Everyone has their own coping mechanisms, this just happens to be mine.
> 
> Sorry for kicking Castiel sorta to the curb this time, but oh well. I don't reallY wanna write him in any timeline that happens after the shitstorm which was 'Despair'. And also, about Jack. I have no idea how he came across. He didn't really have much screentime as God. 
> 
> Here's my [tumblr](https://venus-ourania.tumblr.com/) for anyone interested.


End file.
